Three's a Company
by Shadowy Dumbo Octopus
Summary: ...but four could be a bit of a crowd. Or: Nathaniel and Kitty are planning something. Bartimaeus has no idea what, but he's wholly convinced that it will end with a disaster. Whether he's correct or not depends on one's perspective. (REWRITTEN AND REMASTERED)
1. Prologue

Kitty stared at him in quiet shock, eyes wide open and silently pleading him to say that he wasn't serious.

"No." She finally managed to utter, snapping back to reality to shake her head vigorously. "No. Nope. No way. We are not doing this."

Nathaniel smiled reassuringly, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he completely failed to be reassuring. "It's okay," he soothed, raising his hands in a calming manner, "it will work, Kitty, I know what we'd be doing."

In truth, he barely had a faint inkling of what could possibly be an idea of what they would be doing, but that was what made it exciting; the unknown. "It will be fine, I promise."

Kitty crossed her arms over her chest, glaring. "Last time you said that sort of shit was before the Glass Palace."

"And I did make it out, didn't I?"

"You di-" She threw her hands in the air with a cry of frustration. "You and Bartimaeus almost got your dumb asses blown up! I have no idea how you did it back then but I can guarantee that it won't happen again in this case. We'd both die and you know it."

He raised a finger with a coy smile, as if he was waiting for her to say that. She wanted to punch him. "Not necessarily."

"Yes necessarily." She huffed.

Nathaniel steepled his fingers together, looking around their empty living room as if he didn't want to be overheard. "There is a book in the Russian State Library which has the whole ritual written down to the letter. If we get Bartimaeus to bring it, we could-"

"Die." Kitty interrupted. "Or, in the best case, fuck up the fabric of reality."

That gave him a pause. He licked his lips, fingers drumming against the coffee table. "Peeeeeeeeerhaps?" He drawled out innocently, expression quickly brightening once again. "But imagine what would happen if we succeeded! We probably shouldn't tell anyone about it to avoid global chaos, but we'd get the answers to so many questions! Aren't you curious?"

Kitty huffed, crossing her arms again with a frown.

"No."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Kitty."

"Nathaniel."

He smiled that punchable yet disarming smile, and she just had to smile back. Just a little, though, so that he wouldn't think that he won.

"Okay, I have to admit that I'm a liiiiiiittle bit curious. Still, not curious enough to try it."

Nathaniel clapped his hands triumphantly. "Alright then, let's make a deal. I'll get Bart to get the book so that we know roughly what we're dealing with. If we choose to proceed and succeed, you'll have to bake me blueberry muffins whenever I want until the end of the year."

Kitty nodded, listening attentively.

"If we fail-"

"And not get killed in the process," she added.

"-I will have to do one thing you want, anytime you want, until the end of the year. Deal?"

Kitty pouted. She was, to put it plainly, shit at baking and had no intention to start learning, and it was either that, death or having Nat give her backrubs whenever she wanted until the end of the year. On one hand, the possibility of death or humiliation was overwhelming, but on the other…

"Deal." She held out her hand. "If we fail and not die, you will have to give me backrubs whenever I want."

Nathaniel nodded solemnly, grasping her hand, and the deal was sealed.

And so it began.


	2. Chapter 1

I soared through the night under the guise of a peregrine falcon, grumbling angrily to myself.*

(*Okay, birds couldn't really grumble - something to do with the shape of their beaks - but I was grumbling internally.)

So my dear and wonderful masters have sent me on a book errand. This, mind you, wouldn't be half bad if said book was in some nearby library or bookshop, but no. It was in the goddamn Russian. State. Library.

Why there, I had no idea. And anyway what kind of title was "The Dead Book"?! Sure, I could understand "The Book of the Dead" or something along those lines, but "The Dead Book" sounded just stupid.

I flew in silence, mentally mocking Nathaniel's charge.

Look, I loved the kid more than I love life itself, but he could really be a snot sometimes, especially when sending me after something really specific, like ripe mangos – but not too ripe, or watercolours from one specific supplier in only a certain range of shades.

What was worse, Kitty seemed to approve of the weird errand. Kitty Jones, the voice of reason in our household. When she didn't like something, that something had to go. When she approved, it had to be done ASAP, and neither Nat nor I were brave enough to question her formidable authority.

It took me a few hours to get to Moscow, and by then it was late in the evening; stars dotted the dark sky over me as I landed stealthily* in an alley and shifted into a black cat. Unnoticed, I moved towards the dark building of the library.

(*only managing to knock down two trashcans.)

The doors were locked of course, and a half-hearted Nexus was stretched along the building's perimeter. I slipped through it like smoke through a spider web. Quite literally, because I shifted into a wisp of smoke to avoid being detected by the cameras. Once in the building, I advanced slowly, scanning my surroundings in search of any cues of where the book might be located. If it was magical, it would give off a distinct aura on at least one of the seven planes. If it wasn't, I needed to find a catalogue of some sort or just comb the massive library one room at a time. It was dark, obviously, but it was no problem for such a powerful spirit as myself. Of course, there was also the issue that I had no idea where exactly the book would be, but it was all the case of…

I froze suddenly, gut instinct telling me that I wasn't alone. Guards? Probably.

I floated down the pitch dark corridor, straining all my senses and switching planes from time to time. Eventually, I reached the top of a high staircase and stopped by one of the reading desks to think.

"Greetings and salutations." A polite, feminine voice almost made me jump out of my metaphorical skin. "As it might have come to your attention, the library is closed for the day and cannot be accessed or utilised until nine in the morning on the morrow."

I turned around, trying to locate the speaker.

I found her a few desks away, casually reading a thick, ancient-looking tome in, I repeat, pitch black darkness. She looked up at me, eyes glittering wisely from behind the half-rimmed glasses despite, again, the complete lack of light.

Deciding that there's no point in stealth anymore, I changed my guise to Ptolemy, at the same time skimming through the planes to see exactly who the stranger was.

"Um," I said, approaching the figure carefully, magic at the ready. It didn't seem hostile, but I preferred to be safe rather than sorry, "yeah, the locked door and the darkness have clued me in. Look, I just need to find one book and I'll be out of your hair."

The lights of a passing car illuminated the stranger for a brief moment, allowing me to catch a glimpse of a bespectacled woman with her hair tied up in a messy bun. Something, quite possibly a pen, was sticking out of it, right between the curve ram horns curling out from her temples.

I flipped through the planes quickly, knowing better than to assume that it was how she really looked.

First plane: a bespectacled brunette. Second and third: no change. Fourth: a red-eyed, bespectacled brunette with bet ears and another pair of eyes. Fifth and sixth: no change. Seven-  
I barely stopped myself from crying out as I frantically switched back to avoid looking at the monstrosity for any second longer. I still wasn't sure what I was dealing with, but she was definitely more powerful than me.

The being closed the tome calmly and stood up. "Please, do refrain from screaming or emitting other noises of high volume, as they are forbidden in the library regardless of whether it is closed or not."  
"Duly noted." I whispered, nodding quickly.

Seemingly satisfied, the woman sat down again and adjusted her glasses. "Thank you for your cooperation." She said politely. Then, something in her eyes changed as she regarded my guise. "Pray tell, djinni, have you ever visited Alexandria?"

The question threw me off a little, and it took me a few moments to understand where it came from.

"Oh, do you mean this?" I gestured at Ptolemy's form. "Yes, as a matter of fact, but briefly. I don't know who the kid was but I like the look."

"I see. Have you seen the library?"

How did she know that Ptolemy was from Alexandria specifically? Did she know him? Glimpse him in the crowd? Oh wait, she asked me another question.

"Of course I have." I replied and the woman's eyes brightened, something evident even in near-complete darkness.

"Oh, was it not magnificent?" Words spilled from her lips like water out of a broken dam. "The shelves reaching up to the ceiling, packed to the brim with scrolls and letters and tablets, of knowledge from all around the world. The layout remains in my memory to this day. The west wing contained writings taken from the visiting ships, split into sections according to the theme: science, geography, religion, magical arts, medicine… the middle stacks made up the history section, detailing the cultures of Egypt, Mesopotamia, Kush, and so much more. Oh, the smell of dust and parchment in the air…" she sighed dreamily, lost in memories. "Such a miraculous place…" Her smile winked out like a blown out candle. "…so tragically gone."

She sighed again, sadly this time, eyes turning back to me. "I apologise," she said much more calmly, "I was carried away by memories. Now, what writings do you seek?"

I could have just given her the book title and been done with it but, to be honest, her brief outburst sparked my curiosity. If my memory was correct, the west wing was in fact reserved for the writings from the ships. The question was: how did she know?

"You speak as if you were there." I said, pulling up a chair for myself and sitting down. She didn't seem to want to attack me, so I allowed myself to relax a little.

"I was." The woman said. "My name is Azari of Alexandria, the constructor, guardian and first librarian of the great Library of Alexandria*. That is, until my masters were slaughtered and I was forced to return to the Other Place due to a regrettable clause in my charge." She scowled. "Ever since its downfall, I have guarded uncountable writings, many of which could drive any mortal man to gibbering madness. Fortunately, I am neither of those things." She winked, a brief smile appearing on her lips. "I am a marid of seventh level, but I will not harm you unless you bring harm (direct or otherwise) to myself or the books, which would be highly unwise. If you require assistance in your research, I would be most delighted to aid you."

(*Is that how she recognised Ptolemy? The kid practically lived there for most of his early teenage years.)

I sat back, processing all the information I was given. First of all, I was dealing with a marid. Great. I didn't really have a good track record with them, so direct combat was the last thing I wanted. Fortunately, she did not seem to be able or willing to harm me unless I damaged the library's property in any way, which was something I had no intention of doing. I sighed with relief. Marids were generally honest and, judging from the words "regrettable" and "forced to", this particular one took her orders very seriously. It seemed that I was relatively safe. However, if the bit about her ties to the library was true, then she was even more intriguing than I primarily thought. Despite my cautiousness, I was genuinely curious about her.

Nonetheless, I had a job to do – the sooner I did it, the sooner I could give my masters a stern talking-to about sending me for such long and tiresome trips.

"If you could you direct me to a book called 'Το νεκρό βιβλίο' or however it's pronounced, I would be grateful." I said, recalling the book title I was given.

"Το νεκρό βιβλίο? With pleasure. Follow me." Azari brushed some dust from her outfit (white shirt, black vest and skirt with grey tights and black flats - she basically screamed 'librarian') and gestured for me to follow her through dark and winding corridors, deeper and deeper into the building.

We walked in perfect silence, and I was beginning to feel a little uneasy. Azari was beginning to disturb me with her politeness and overly pretentious vocabulary. I wasn't used to things not being out to kill me, so I half expected her to lunge at me at any moment. The ear-crushing silence around us didn't help either; even our steps didn't make a sound against the carpet.

Eventually, we reached a long corridor, its walls lined with perfectly identical doors. Azari approached one and, after producing a ring of keys from her pocket, unlocked it with a silent 'click.'

"Please, do refrain from doing anything rash or foolhardy." She warned, turning back to me. "The books stored inside this room are ancient, and multiple of them are, in fact, cursed."

I nodded, and she opened the door, slipping gracefully inside, not even waiting for me to follow (which was rude.)

I opened to door a little wider and entered the small, windowless room. The air was thick with dust, almost making me sneeze. All around were shelves reaching up to the ceiling, groaning under the weight of large, leather-bound tomes covered with a grey coat of dust.

We approached one of these shelves and Azari reached up to remove a particularly heavy book. She took a moment to caress the cover lovingly, brush the dust off its cover and inhale the smell of old pages, eyes shutting with delight. I felt awkward, as if I was intruding on something intimate.

"This is the tome which you have requested." She said eventually, handing it to me. "Please, do take utmost care during transportation and store it away from sunlight and humidity. You have twenty-one days."

I gulped, clutching the book a little harder. "Excuse me?" The statement was just a tad too ominous for my taste.

"Twenty-one days," she repeated, "is five hundred and four hours, three weeks and the maximum amount of time you are permitted to keep the book for. When that time is over, you must return it to these premises or else I will be forced to locate you and perform some rather gruesome and painful activities which would leave both you and your master dead or writhing in never-ending torment, begging for the sweet oblivion that will not come until your lives are claimed by either madness or old age." A brief flicker of malice passed through her features before she smiled that polite smile again. "Now, is there anything else I could help you with?"

I shook my head, trying to hide my sudden terror. I decided that, if I survive this, I'll never set any appendage in a library again. I always knew that librarians were somewhat out of this world, but _this_ was pushing it.

"Could you, perhaps, direct me back to the exit?" I squeaked.

"Gladly." Azari ran her fingers along another book's spine as if stroking it, and turned towards the door. "When we return to the front desk, I will have to ask you for your and your master's names. It is merely a procedure, and all data given will be kept completely private, so you will not be summoned unless you damage or fail to return the book on time."

"Okay." I didn't really have much choice.

"Good djinni."

Once we re-entered the hall, Azari led me towards the exit and the reception desk, from under which she pulled out a leather-bound notebook and a pen.

"Very well." She said. "Your name? Please, answer honestly."

"Bartimaeus of Uruk. Djinni."

"The name of your master?"

"John Mandrake."

"Where does your master currently reside?"

"London, England."

"Thank you." Azari set the notepad away and took out a canvas bag. "Do bear the three-week long deadline in mind, please. Would you like me to pack the book for travel? You will not have to return the bag."

After giving the matter a brief thought, I nodded. The thing _was_ pretty fragile-looking, after all.

I was beyond relieved when she unlocked the door and finally let me out. I wasted no time and flew the hell away, the bag in my claws. As I did, I mentally prepared the lecture I was going to give to the blasted kids for making me go through that trauma AND having to leave my name down.

It was well past noon when I arrived back in London, having to navigate between swarms of messenger imps flying pretty much everywhere. I may or may not have eaten a few – they probably weren't carrying anything of importance anyway.

"Ah, there you are!" Nathaniel exclaimed, taking the bag from my hands as soon as I shifted from falcon to Ptolemy upon landing. "Did you get the book?"

I nodded, opening my mouth to treat him with the speech I had composed while on my way back, but he was too busy practically salivating over the book to listen to anything I had to say.

"Thank you, Bartimaeus." He eventually said. "That will be everything for now."

"No problem." I lied. "By the way, you have three weeks to return it or we're both screwed. Just so you know."

The brat finally looked up at me, and seemed to think for a few moments before nodding.

"It should be enough. Once again, thank you so much. You are dismissed."

As my tired essence flew back to the Other Place, I tried to think what my idiots could want with such a book. I hoped that I wouldn't get to find out.


	3. Chapter 2

"So," Kitty set the bag down on the coffee table and placed her hands on her hips, "we have everything we need for this to work. I will ask you again: are you sure that you want to do this?"

Nathaniel peeked into the bag and, seeming satisfied with its contents, nodded. "Absolutely." He replied as if she was asking about baking cookies (something she would hopefully end up doing.) "Now, how familiar are we with the spell?"

He tried not to show it, but he was a nervous wreck. The incantation was burned into his mind at this point from long nights of memorizing every single syllable; he could probably recite it in his sleep (with disastrous results.)

"I know it off by heart," Kitty replied, glancing down at her notepad. They had everything; incense, candles, chalk, some spices with weird names she couldn't pronounce, and three live mice. She looked down at them, skittering around in the small cage, and winced at the thought of what they were going to do, "you?"

Nathaniel nodded, "Yeah." He seemed to sense her thoughts and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I'll make it quick, I promise."

The candles were lit, the pentacles drawn, the incense lit and the blood of the living spilled to call upon the realm of the dead.

Three mice killed - three souls given so that three could return.

Nathaniel and Kitty gave each other one last reassuring look before beginning the chant.

It was a curious spell; while the Greek translation was supplied, the original was written in a language unknown by either man or spirit, and different from any other language spoken in either's memory.

The room grew darker, as if the light of the candles stopped being able to ward off the darkness. The lines drawn in white chalk began to glow softly, and the symbols drawn with mouse blood lit up as if on fire.

Kitty felt blood drip from her nose as she carried on reciting, desperately trying to ignore it and the increasingly louder ringing in her ears. Her vision was swimming. Beside her, Nathaniel could barely stand upright, his legs growing weaker by the minute. Ice was beginning to set on his skin and his and Kitty's breaths were coming out in white puffs. The candles were burning blue.

Then suddenly, everything went dark.

Blackness, all around him.

"Wh-" He heard Kitty's voice to his left, echoing in the void. "Did it work?"

Suddenly, the darkness was lit up by soft blue light, and both of them saw thin, glowing threads connected to their floating, semi-translucent forms and disappearing far, far above them.

"I think so." Nathaniel looked straight ahead, at the pale blue glow emanating in the distance. "We're in the In-Between."

The In-Between was a place where souls went after death before reaching whatever afterlife awaited them. According to the book, each and every afterlife from every religion existed, but the souls had to be sorted and judged before they could enter it. Apparently, the process took up to 5000 years.

If they were lucky, the soul they were seeking was still there.

They approached the glow slowly, moved more by thought rather than muscle.

"I feel like an astronaut." Nathaniel muttered, and he heard/felt Kitty chuckle. "Do you see him yet?"

"No."

After a few minutes, they floated before an enormous orb made entirely of the same blue light that connected them to the world of the living. Millions of wisps moved all over its surface, one vanishing only for five more to appear or vice versa.

"Souls." Kitty whispered, eyes wide in awe.

Then, one of them stopped its swirling dance and froze in place. It seemed to glow more brightly than the others as a thin, barely visible thread of light extended from it.

"That's the one." Nathaniel muttered, approaching the wisp and gesturing for Kitty to do the same. "Help me get it out."

They placed their hands on it, feeling nothing yet everything as their ethereal hands made contact with it, and pulled.

The surface of the orb rippled like a lake after a stone has been thrown into it. The wisp burned brighter and brighter, almost blindingly so. A distant memory of pain flashed in Kitty's mind as her thread tightened, flashing wildly. It looked like it was going to break.

"Come on…" Nathaniel grit his teeth, giving one last pull before they fell backwards, the soul coming free in a shower of blue lights, four especially large ones swirling off upwards. Neither Nathaniel nor Kitty saw that, though, because they were falling

down

down

down…

Or were they falling up? Neither was sure until they hit the hard, sturdy floor of the summoning room, sweating and desperately gasping for air.

The first to sit up was Kitty, wiping the blood from her ears, eyes and nose with her sleeve.

"You fucking bastard." She croaked weakly, eyes landing on the figure standing inside the pentacle. "We actually did it."

Beside her, Nathaniel managed out a weak laugh. "You're making me muffins after this." He gasped, lifting himself up on his elbows to look at the boy they suffered so much to bring back. "Hi." He said in ancient Greek.

The boy looked down at him in shock, then at Kitty, then at the room, the pentacles and symbols surrounding him, at the ice melting off the walls, and lastly at himself.

Eventually, he waved shyly.

Nathaniel gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile as he unsteadily got up on his feet. "Does your name happen to be Ptolemy of Alexandria by any chance?"

"Yes." The boy replied, and neither Kitty nor Nathaniel had any more doubts that they've got the right soul; Bartimaeus sometimes used that voice when he thought that no one was listening. "How did you do that?"


	4. Chapter 3

Nathaniel thought that he already liked the kid, who was sitting on the couch opposite him and regarding both him and Kitty with curiosity. Five seconds among the living and his words weren't 'who are you?', 'who am I?', 'where am I?' or anything like that. His surroundings didn't matter – all he wanted to know was how they did it… whatever they did.

Neither he nor Kitty were fully fluent in Greek, but they knew enough to maintain a decent enough conversation. Still, it was difficult to explain what they have done and how, because a) they didn't know the right vocab for it, b) the book was back in the library, and c) they barely had an idea themselves – everything past their initial blackout was hazy, like a half-remembered fever dream.

He nodded at their explanation, listening attentively and posing intelligent questions they could only sometimes answer.

"So, who are you two?" He eventually asked.

Kitty sighed with relief – finally something they could respond to confidently.

"My name is Kitty." She said.

"My name is John." Nathaniel said. "We know your name, so you don't have to introduce yourself if you don't want to."

"I see." The kid was impressively stoic for someone who has only been alive for ten minutes. "Where are we? This doesn't look like Alexandria."

"London, England." He answered. "Twenty-first century. It has been about two thousand years since you died."

"Oh, that explains your clothes and the way everything looks."

"Yeah." Kitty sighed, rubbing her temples. How was he not freaking out?! "Listen, we… we will explain everything as best as we can. If you have any questions or-"

"Why me?"

That gave both her and Nathaniel a pause. They shared a look before the latter spoke up.

"For your, um," he snapped his fingers a few times, searching for the right word, "damnit, Kitty, what's Greek for 'research'?"

"We have read your works on spirits and travelling to the Other Place." Kitty said. "I tried it myself." She smiled, gesturing at her face. Most of the wrinkles had faded, but she still looked older than she was. Her hair was dyed, too. "It was very fascinating."

His eyes lit up, "You have?" He almost stood up from his seat. "You look… you look great! Better than I did! How did you feel afterwards? What do you remember? Why did you go? When? Was it recently? Did you write everything down? Have many people tried before? Are spirits free now? Are they…"

He babbled for about ten minutes before Nathaniel raised a hand, cringing a little. "Well, about the impact of your, um, works on spirits and magicians…" He sucked in air through his teeth. "We will discuss it later. Now you will need documents and clothes, then you will need to learn the language and get… damn, what's the word?"

"…Get caught up, so to speak." Kitty finished. "Technology is more…" she paused, searching for the right word, "advanced now, and you are not even on the right continent, so the changes may be a shock to you."

Nathaniel nodded. "We will explain it one thing at a time so that you are not overwhelmed. Now, I think that there is someone who would like to see you again."

The kid sat up straighter, looking at them curiously. "Who?"

Kitty couldn't resist a smile. "A certain djinni."


	5. Chapter 4

Thankfully, returning the book was marginally less stressful than borrowing it, although I still wished that Nathaniel and Kitty would've chosen someone else. Azari was delighted to have the book back, though, and pulled me into a long discussion about Alexandria. I've only been there for several years during my considerable career, so I didn't really have anything to say. Warm, sunny, had a library. Nothing interesting.*

(*Well, there was a reason why I enjoyed my stay there almost more than anywhere else, but that was absolutely none of her business.)

As I materialised inside the pentacle, I allowed my thoughts to drift back to the city and, inevitably, to Ptolemy. Call me a fool, but after all these years, I still missed him. Once again, I took on the boy's guise almost unconsciously.

Kitty's voice snapped me from my thoughts.

"Hi, Bartimaeus." She chirped with a wide grin stretched on her lips. I raised an eyebrow, mildly concerned. Either of my masters being this excited meant nothing good. "Nathaniel and I have a little surprise for you."

Okay, I was _greatly_ concerned.

I placed my hands on my hips. "What did the two of you do this time and how do you expect me to fix it?" I knew without asking that her sweet tone meant that they were in deep trouble and hoped that I would help them out of it.

Nathaniel peeked out from behind her, also grinning and bouncing up like an excited child. "We would like you to meet someone." He said. Oh gods, they fucked up something big and I had to talk them out of whatever mess they got themselves into. "Or well, re-meet."

I quickly ran through my mental list of people all three of us had pissed off throughout the years, preparing a range of insults and excuses before my two idiots just grabbed me and unceremoniously shoved me into the next room, closing the door behind them while babbling something about muffins and a bet.

"Splendid." I sighed, rolling my shoulders and mentally cursing the two disasters I grew unspeakably attached to. My sharp eyes scanned the room in search of any danger before landing on a lone figure sitting on the couch, staring at me with large, soulful dark eyes I would recognise anywhere, even if I didn't see them every time I looked into a mirror.

The world slowed down to a halt.

The figure stood up and approached me hesitantly.

"Rekhyt?" He asked in a voice I haven't heard for over two thousand one hundred and twenty-six years.

Speechless, I kept flipping through the planes to see if it was a trick, because it had to be. There was no way he was there, alive and standing in front of me, wearing one of Nathaniel's hoodies and a pair of washed out jeans. It had to be a cruel joke of some sort, an illusion.

It wasn't.

It was Ptolemy.

My Ptolemy.

On all seven planes, he remained unchanged.

My Ptolemy.

He was walking towards me, lower lip trembling and eyes glittering with tears.

My Ptolemy.

He was saying something I couldn't process because just hearing his voice after all those years was like hearing music after being deaf for all my life.

My Ptolemy.

Tears streamed down his cheeks. I wanted to wipe them away, but couldn't move, couldn't touch him because I was too afraid that touch would shatter the illusion.

My Ptolemy.

When he wrapped his arms around me, it was like electricity surging through my essence, like fire flowing through my veins, like cold air entering my lungs.

My Ptolemy.

 _Alive._

The penny dropped.

I returned the embrace as tightly as I dared and, when he didn't disappear like I feared he would, pulled him close and buried my head in the crook of his neck, in the grey fabric of Nathaniel's cheap hoodie he practically never wore. I didn't want to let go. Ever. I wanted to envelop Ptolemy with my whole essence, making us one so that we would never have to part, but at the same time, I knew that I wouldn't be able to see him that way, look at his face, hear his laughter…

So I just held on to him, and he held on to me. I felt his arms around me, his head against my shoulder and his hair tickling my cheek. He was there, and he was more real than anything I've ever experienced. Real. So beautifully, heart-rendingly real. He kept on babbling something between, sometimes switching from Egyptian into Greek and vice versa. Something about how worried he was and how happy he was that I was okay.

"Rekhyt..." He choked out at one point, "I'm sorry for-"

"Shut up." I was barely able to speak, could barely process the words that came from my mouth. "I love you so much."

That set him off again, crying into me as he held on for dear life. Alive. Real.

I don't know how long we stood there, him crying and me just holding on tightly, but at one point he calmed down enough to speak normally.

"You're still wearing my form." He said, trying to pull away. "You haven't forgotten me."

I didn't let him. Couldn't let him. Before I was afraid that he would shatter if I touched him, but now I feared that I would shatter if he let go.

"I could never forget you." I muttered. How could I? If his memory died, I would surely die with it.

Alright, maybe I should've taken a while to ponder how exactly my former master has been resurrected, but that was the last thing on my mind. The aforementioned master was the first.

He laughed, and I felt my knees buckle at the sound. I wanted to cherish and protect it with my life, to hear it and only it for the rest of my life.

Slowly and despite my protests, he moved away to dry the remaining tears and gave me a once over.

"Incredible." He sighed. "All these years, and you haven't omitted a single detail." He circled me slowly, examining my back, hair and arms. "Rekhyt, I... I don't know what I've done to deserve such honour."

I shook my head as if the question was ridiculous, and it was. What hasn't he done to deserve it?

"I cannot think of anyone more worthy than you." I said, taking a moment to look at his face and his tousled hair and his red and puffy eyes and his smiling lips and there was something rising in my chest which hurt like hell but I never wanted it to stop.

"I'm never letting you go again." I whispered. "Ever."

A knock startled both of us. Nathaniel poked his head into the room. "The muffins are ready." He announced. "Or well, have been for the past two hours, but Kitty said to give you two some space."

Two hours? Was that how long we were…

"What are muffins?" Ptolemy asked, mispronouncing the last word so endearingly that I couldn't resist kissing his forehead. "Is there more hot chocolate?"

Then it hit me.

Nathaniel's and Kitty's excitement and cryptic behaviour, dismissing me for longer than usual, the remark about "re-meeting" someone, the fact that Ptolemy was wearing Nathaniel's hoodie…

Before I could explode in an hour-long tirade about WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU IDIOTS THINKING and HOW THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT, Ptolemy was already dragging me towards the kitchen, and towards a whole new future, brimming with possibilities.


	6. Note

**Hey guys, Positive here.**

 **As you can see, I rewrote this fic after what, two years? See, I'm a bit more seasoned writer now so I wanted to refresh this stuff before I keep rewriting "Miscounted."**

 **Also, I can be found on AO3 under Shadowy_Dumbo_Octopus**

 **And on** tumblr **, under shadowy-dumbo-octopus**

 **I finally graduated high school, so I hope to have more time to write now. Again, thank you all for your patience and continued support.**

 **-Positive**


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